A minha linguagem de amor é você ser a única pessoa pra quem eu assumo fraqueza. A única pessoa que eu realmente gosto de conversar por ligação, a única pessoa que eu respondo em dias em que eu não quero falar com ninguém. A única pessoa que tem livre acesso a mim, sem restrição.
Being in a relationship means you must love someone the way they need you to, not just in the way that is comfortable for you. Because it's a reminder that love is not only about what I prefer giving, it's also about how the other person actually receives it. Real love takes effort, emotional maturity, and the willingness to meet each other halfway, not just show up when it feels easy.
eu acho que é bom ter uma aliança em um pedido de namoro, não que seja algo obrigatório. Só que, tipo, pensa você deitar na sua cama depois de um dia exaustivo, querendo sumir, e olhar pro seu dedo e lembrar que tem alguém que te ama e tem certeza sobre você.
I remember fùcking my bride in the church toilet twenty minutes before we said our vows, and she still walked down the aisle with my cùm inside her.
Everyone was outside. Photos. She pulled me into the small toilet behind the vestry, locked it, and said she was shaking and needed me to calm her down the only way that worked. Dress up. Nothing under it. She bent over the sink, looked at me in the mirror, and said, “Quick. And finish inside me. I want to feel you when I say I do.”
I pushed into her pùssy in one stroke. She was soaked. She bit her arm so the bridesmaids outside would not hear. I fùcked her deep and short, the sink rattling, her eyes on mine in the glass. She came fast, shaking, clenching around me, whispering my name like a prayer. I càme inside her, buried, because she reached back and held me there. We straightened the dress in silence. She fixed her lipstick. Unlocked the door. Her mother was calling her name.
I remember fùcking my bride in the church toilet twenty minutes before we said our vows, and she still walked down the aisle with my cùm inside her.
Everyone was outside. Photos. She pulled me into the small toilet behind the vestry, locked it, and said she was shaking and needed me to calm her down the only way that worked. Dress up. Nothing under it. She bent over the sink, looked at me in the mirror, and said, “Quick. And finish inside me. I want to feel you when I say I do.”
I pushed into her pùssy in one stroke. She was soaked. She bit her arm so the bridesmaids outside would not hear. I fùcked her deep and short, the sink rattling, her eyes on mine in the glass. She came fast, shaking, clenching around me, whispering my name like a prayer. I càme inside her, buried, because she reached back and held me there. We straightened the dress in silence. She fixed her lipstick. Unlocked the door. Her mother was calling her name.